


Stand By Me

by WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Rufus Carlin will do anything to make sure his ship cannons, We do not deserve him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething/pseuds/WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething
Summary: Wyatt and Lucy dance... So what if the song just happens to be meant for them.





	Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially just some fluffy HC stuff for the goats and then suddenly it was 1 am and I was writing a fanfiction.  
> What even is life.  
> Requested by : Technically the goats but also by me

She tried to focus on the crowd, the unfamiliar faces, the passing waiters. But when Wyatt was this close to her – when she could breathe in and almost drown in his scent, she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the hands he had placed on her body.  
Rufus had literally pushed them onto the dance floor with a single comment. “I didn’t die and then come back to life only to miss an opportunity to have you two dance.” He’d waved them off before Flynn and he disappeared to scan different rooms. The only thing currently hiding the blush that had crept into Lucy’s cheeks was the fine layer of makeup she’d applied before leaving the hotel room. Wyatt had just given a stubborn cough, regaining his balance before taking her hand and more elegantly, leading her towards the floor where dozens of couples lazily moved the sound of Ben E King singing “Stand By Me”.

There movements were stiff in the beginning. Neither knew where to place their hands, or how exactly they should dance with the other. Wyatt had been torn between paying her rapt attention and continuing his surveillance of the room. She could hardly see over his shoulder. She wanted to tell him to relax, to take the tension from his body as they moved in a circle, following the actions of the couples around them. Their hold of the other was loose until one couple knocked into them and Wyatt’s arm wrapped around and pulled her so she was almost flush against his chest and neither of them tried to fix that issue. She stayed that way, so close to being pressed against him, his hands tighter on her body, almost burning, and his scent intoxicating her as King continued singing. 

This close, she could think of everything she wanted to say to him. Jokes she wanted to make about their future selves because she knew both of them had seen the quiet gestures between them that hinted at the intimacy they shared. The love they openly shared – and conveyed – with one another even if they had tried to be subtle around them. But the words wouldn’t come, and maybe they were better for it as the tension slowly slipped from Wyatt’s shoulders. As his chin came a little closer to resting on top of her head. As the words disappeared from her mind, and the song worked its way inside of her body. As she wished, foolishly, for this moment to linger forever.  
-  
“Hey,” she said. Wyatt looked up from the clothes he was packing onto the shelves lining one wall. Denise had moved them to a new bunker, this one only slightly bigger to accommodate the bulk of her family. Wyatt had quickly chosen the smallest room, and Lucy had offered the largest one to Rufus and Jiya. No one was quite sure how much Flynn and Mason enjoyed sharing a room after Mark and Olivia had almost started a war at the prospect of having to share a bedroom on top of everything else.  
“Hey,” Wyatt smiled carefully, eyeing up the doorway as if expecting someone else to be hovering outside of it. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t come to his room alone before. Usually, Jiya and Rufus accompanied her. Usually, she never stayed long. Too many words burned in her throat. Too many emotions wanted to explode out of her that she wasn’t ready for.  
“How’s the leg?”  
“It was a scratch,” he shrugged, quickly kicking a small bottle of antibiotics and pain relief out of sight.  
“You do realise I saw the wound? Two bullets Wyatt.” He shrugged as the overhead speakers crackled. Surely they weren’t about to be alerted to the Mothership jumping again. She could already feel her eyes beginning to roll and hear Wyatt softly cursing ever agreeing to time travel in the first place.  
“When the nights,” came Ben E King’s voice, crackling from whatever version of 'Stand By Me' was playing. She shut her eyes, no makeup on her face to hide her blush as her and Wyatt both muttered, “Rufus.”  
“We bring that guy back from the dead and this is what he does?” Wyatt continues.  
“Jiya probably suggested it,” she tries to laugh but fails when he gives her a soft look. They don't move, for a minute. Letting music and unsaid words wash over them until he extends his hand. He doesn’t need to explain himself, or the reason why she can feel his fingers trembling when she placed her own hand inside of it. 

There is no awkward movements or space between them. She’s flush against his chest in seconds, head resting on his shoulders while she breathes him in. The peace of being wrapped in his arms was a drug. It let her hope and hope was a dangerous emotion. It let her mind wander – to build up fanciful ideas of what would come after Rittenhouse. Those ideas always involved Wyatt. His smile in the morning, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. Simple things. Things anyone might do if they lived a normal life. Shopping and arguing about which brand of cereal was the best. Spontaneous trips to the movies or just lounging in bed all day.  
“Luce?” He murmured as she gripped him tighter. “You okay?” She felt one of his hands move to the back of her head, cradling it until she couldn’t hold back a sob. “What’s wrong?”  
“This,” she said into his shoulder.  
“We can stop,” he said quickly, and she could already feel his hold slackening.  
“I don’t want to stop,” she admitted and slowly felt his hold tighten again as they moved in slow circles. It seemed Rufus had the song on a loop. “You know, when we started these missions and I lost Amy, I thought nothing good would ever happen to me again. That by trying to play with the past, I could no longer enjoy the present. That any joy it once offered me was eradicated.” She took a breath. “But then you and Rufus – you became that joy. You made the present something I wanted to come home to… And eventually, even when we were trapped in the past, you two made it a home. You made it a home. It stopped mattering what four walls surrounded me, so long as you and Rufus were inside of them, it was going to be okay. Once I had you two…” she trailed off. “We almost had everything Wyatt, us three. Even just us... We almost had a way out, no more time travel, Amy was going to come back, you and I – we had hope, didn’t we?”  
“Yes,” came his reply, his voice thick with unshed tears. Her own tears were staining his shirt.  
“Hollywood… There was a glimmer of something there for us. It was just one day out a lifetime – one day Wyatt. That’s all we got, it’s all we ever seem to get and I hate it.

“That we never get our happiness at the same time for long. That something always has to interrupt. The past, the present, even the future.” He chuckled a little. “I lied when Jess came back – not just about being happy for you, but about not wanting to be the person who broke it up. I wanted so desperately to break it up. I wanted you to be happy, but I wanted you to be happy with me. I wanted us so badly. You have no idea Wyatt,” the tears fell harder as the song began again and she heard Mark begin complaining. “And then she was gone, Rufus was gone and you were there. Telling me things I thought I’d never hear you tell me. I thought I knew how I’d react but I didn’t. I had no idea what to do because you looked as broken as I felt.”  
“We don’t have to do this Luce,” he whispered. “Us. If you can’t do this again, I don’t expect you to try.”  
“But that’s the problem, Wyatt,” she breathed unsteadily, pulling away from him so she could see his eyes, bright with tears. “I love you too.” She doubts that either of them breaths for the next few seconds. “Despite everything – despite every reason, I should have not to be in love with you, I love you.”  
“You love me?” He asks, eyes flying back and forth with hers. She nods her head, offering him a watery smile. “You’re sure about that?”  
“I’ve been sure for a while,” she whispers as his hand moves to cup her cheek, eyes briefly flickering to her lips. “Do you think Rufus is going to change the song anytime soon?” She blurts out as Denise calls for a reprieve. Wyatt laughs, shrugging his shoulders as she places a hand on his cheek. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when they open again his pupils are dilated.  
“I think if he doesn’t stop soon a few people will try shooting him,” he murmurs as she reaches onto her toes, heart beating in her throat as his lips part. "Lucy?"  
"Yeah?" She holds his stare, feeling it pierce every part of her until she's sure he sees everything.  
"When I was with Jessica - when she came back... I was never happy. Not like the way I was - am - with you. Just... Don't ever think that I'm not happy with you because I'm pretty sure, I'm far happier when you're by my side."  
"Kicking ass and saving history?"  
"Yup," he breathes, voice shaking. Tears still sting both their eyes as hears the song repeat, again. 

She makes the final move, brushing their lips together, waiting just a moment, before doing it again. She can feel him exercising control, trying not to be desperate when her tongue slides into his mouth when her hands tug his hair.  
“Wyatt?” She whispers.  
“What?”  
“Your allowed want this as much as I do.”  
Things become a little less soft after that. 

Rufus finally stops playing the song an hour later.  
“You’re welcome,” he said in an uncharacteristic baritone. Lucy laughs, Wyatt’s fingers tracing her spine as she rests her head on his chest. She can see her clothes strewn amongst his on the floor. She can feel the sweat on their skin and knows they weren’t exactly the quietest about what they did. She’s aware they’ll have to face everyone at dinner time and that Mark is old enough to know what the creaking bed meant… and that Oliva will probably ask questions as to why Rufus played the same song for an hour straight. She knows what’s to come for once and it makes her smile.  
“I love you,” Wyatt said simply, because he could.  
“Damn right you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some fluff to tide us over. Not meant to be any sort of high-brow art that leaves your mind blown... But if it did feel free to let me know.


End file.
